<h3><strong>When You Feel Numb Or Disconnected</strong></h3><p>Grief does not always arrive in waves of strong emotions. Sometimes instead of crying or shouting, you may feel very little at all. You might feel like you’re watching life happen at a distance, as though they are going through the motions on autopilot. Some might call it numbness; others might call it emptiness.</p><p>This is the nervous system’s way of protecting you. Just as it can launch into fight or flight when it senses danger or stress, it can also shut down into what’s called the ‘freeze’ response. When experiences become too overwhelming to process, the body can slow down, energy drops and emotions can switch off.</p><p>Numbness can be your body’s attempt to cope but when it lingers, it can bring confusion or even guilt. You may long to feel something, as though you ‘should’ be feeling more but it seems out of reach.</p><h3><strong>One Breath At A Time</strong></h3><p>The way back is not to force feeling, but to gently invite connection back, one small step at a time. Your breath can be a steady companion here. It is always present, always moving. By paying attention to it, you can notice what is already there, helping you bridge the gap between your body and mind.</p><h3><strong>A Grounding Breath, To Gently Reconnect With Yourself</strong></h3><p>This is not about changing your breath, you are simply noticing it, tuning into the steady rhythm of inhales and exhales. The shift may be subtle. Each inhale and exhale becomes a thread of connection allowing a little more presence and reassurance that you are still here.</p><figure class="media"><div data-oembed-url="https://youtu.be/yFJ36MSQbxY?si=04-JwtyzIAjIL9QE"><div style="position:relative;padding-bottom:100%;height:0;padding-bottom:56.2493%"><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yFJ36MSQbxY" style="position:absolute;width:100%;height:100%;top:0;left:0" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></div></figure><h3><strong>Try This Gentle Breathing Technique</strong></h3><p>To practice this breathing technique, find a place where you feel as comfortable as possible, whether sitting or lying down. Close your eyes or simply soften your gaze. If it is comfortable for you, rest one hand on your chest and one hand on your belly. Feel the surface beneath you holding your weight, steady and supportive and allow your body to settle.</p><p><strong>1. Begin by bringing your attention to your breath. Don't change anything yet, just focus on how your breath is right now in this moment.</strong></p><ul><li>Is it high in your chest or low in your belly?</li><li>Is it quick or is it slow?</li><li>Is it gentle or is it heavy?</li><li>Notice how cool the air feels as you breathe in through your nose and slightly warmer as you breathe out.</li></ul><p><strong>2. Start to gently guide your breath into a smooth rhythm and silently say to yourself: ‘I am breathing in. I am breathing out.’</strong></p><ul><li>Inhale slowly through your nose and low into your belly.</li><li>Exhale slowly through your mouth or nose, whatever feels easy for you.</li><li>Breathing gently with no force or effort.</li></ul><p><strong>3. Let your breath move like waves. Steady and continuous.</strong></p><ul><li>Imagine each inhale is like a wave rolling gently into shore.</li><li>Imagine each exhale is that wave flowing calmly back out to sea.</li></ul><p><strong>4. Notice now how you have created a natural rhythm to your breathing.</strong></p><ul><li>With every gentle exhale, imagine you are breathing out the tension in your body.</li><li>With every inhale, imagine you are breathing in calm and strength.</li></ul><p><strong>5. Breathe like this for a few minutes.</strong></p><ul><li>If your mind drifts, gently return to the words &amp; the movement of your hands as they rise and fall with your breath.</li></ul><h3><strong>Notice What Changes</strong></h3><p>Notice how your body is responding. Perhaps you feel your shoulders relaxing and your belly softening? You may or may not feel different right away. That’s okay. This practice isn’t about forcing feelings to return. It’s about creating a thread of connection, however small. Over time, these moments can remind your body that it is safe enough to soften and reconnect.</p><h3><strong>Your Breath Is Always With You</strong></h3><p>You can return to this practice anytime. You don’t need special equipment, or a long session. Even a few minutes using this technique can make a difference. Your breath is always with you.</p><p>Over time, these moments of calm accumulate, creating more space for you to meet life as it is.</p><p>Your breath won’t erase life’s challenges, but it can remind you that with every inhale and every exhale, you carry a simple, effective tool to help bring your mind and body back from overwhelm to greater ease.</p><h3><strong>A Gentle Reminder</strong></h3><p>Think of these practices as gentle tools you can reach for to support your wellbeing. They don’t replace medical or therapeutic care. Please only do what feels supportive for you, and if anything doesn’t feel right, simply return to your natural breath.</p><p>If you or a loved one is struggling with ongoing or overwhelming distress, I encourage you to reach out to a healthcare or mental health professional for extra support.</p>

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When You Feel Numb Or Disconnected: One Breath At A Time.

<p>You know the feeling of having a good day, everything is fine, nothing out of the ordinary, and your body begins to trust, just for a moment, that it’s okay to slide out of fight-or-flight mode. That it’s okay to let your soul settle with a warm cup of tea or a slow, gentle walk.</p><p>And then, just as you begin to allow yourself the confidence to step into a space of trust—boom—the gut punch.</p><p>Your stomach drops and your mind lights up like a thousand fireflies, electrifying every single neural pathway, exploding into a chaotic frenzy of thoughts:</p><p><br /><i>“But what if?”</i><br /><i>“Stay alert.”</i><br /><i>“You can’t be happy.”</i><br /><i>“Don’t let your guard down.”</i><br /><i>“Hurry up.”</i><br /><i>“Hurry up.”</i><br /><i>“Hurrryyyy uppp!”</i></p><h3>When the Mind Spirals</h3><p>As I write this today, my three young children have scurried across the field to see their granny and grandad. I watched them go through the field, climb over the wall onto the driveway, and turn the corner to go inside the house. I was happy, knowing they were safe.</p><p>Then suddenly, a wave of panic came over me—a surge of danger taking over my senses. All the <i>what ifs</i> darting through my vision and mind. I didn’t physically see them walk in the door.<br /><i>What if there was a tractor that didn’t see them in the driveway?</i><br /><i>What if a tree fell down in the wind?</i><br /><i>What if the door to Granny’s is locked and they decide to wander around the fields?</i></p><p>All of these scenarios crept into my body, heightening my senses and triggering my deep-seated fear:</p><blockquote><p><br />“Someone else that I love is going to die.”</p></blockquote><h3>The Need to Know</h3><p>So what did I do? I rang their granny. I had to check. I had to know. I tried to wait 15 minutes, but my thoughts gripped me and a distressed state of consciousness set in.</p><p>It has been, and continues to be, a work in progress to differentiate between reality and thought.</p><h3>The Body Believes the Thought</h3><p>Have you ever noticed that when you think a certain thought, your body responds as if it’s happening in that moment?</p><p>This has been proven by science.</p><p>Our bodies do not know how to separate reality from perceived reality.</p><p><i>For example:</i><br />If I imagine a lemon in my hand—look at it, hold it, smell it, and then take a bite—my body reacts as if I’m biting into a sour lemon. As you read this, do you notice your mouth has more saliva? There’s no lemon in your hand, but your body believes there is.</p><p>This is the same for anxious thoughts.</p><p>When an anxious thought appears, our body believes it to be true.<br />99% of the time, it is not true.</p><h3>What Can We Do?</h3><p>So what can we do to support ourselves in moments of anxiety or overwhelm, when fear creeps into our cells?</p><p>We notice it.</p><p>Yes, it sounds simple for such an active, stimulated state—but it really does start there.<br />We have to begin to stop and truly notice what is going on for us in that moment.</p><p>So many of us are on autopilot, stuck in a heightened state of nervousness due to bereavement. It becomes a way of life. In a way, it feels safe—because the perception is that we have control by trying to manage the situation. But in reality, our thoughts and lack of awareness are in the driving seat.</p><h3>Bringing Yourself Back</h3><ul style="list-style-type:circle"><li>We begin by bringing our attention to our thoughts.</li><li>Notice them.</li><li>Remind yourself, and your body, that this is not happening right now.</li><li>That this is not true.</li><li>That right now, I am safe.</li></ul><p>Bring it back to the present moment.<br />Then we can empower ourselves to take back our own authority.</p><p>For example:<br /><i>Right now I am safe.</i><br /><i>Right now my hands are typing on my laptop.</i><br /><i>Right now there is warmth in my mouth from my ginger tea.</i><br /><i>Right now the rain is bouncing off the window.</i><br /><i>Right now my feet are in fluffy socks.</i><br /><i>Right now I am in my house.</i><br /><i>Right now I am safe.</i></p><p>As you read that paragraph, could you see where I was and what my senses were experiencing?</p><p><br />This is the power of imagination.</p><p><br />It can bring us to terrifying, anxious places—and it can also bring us to warm, tender, soft, and nurturing places.</p><h3>You Have the Power to Choose</h3><p>You have the choice.<br />Take your power back.<br />Start with noticing.</p><p>Remind your body that you are safe in this very moment.<br />These are just thoughts trying to keep you secure and in control.<br />They have served you well until now—and now it’s time to let them go.</p><p>Try reminding yourself:</p><blockquote><p><br /><i>“Yes, [insert your name], of course this is how you are trying to make sense of the world. Of course this is absolutely understandable. You have been through so much. Of course this is how you would be trying to protect yourself.”</i></p></blockquote><h3>Remember Your Compassionate Voice</h3><p>A lovely, easy way to bring yourself out of anxious thoughts and back into the room is to use the five senses. Try it now:</p><ul><li>5 things you can see</li><li>4 things you can touch</li><li>3 things you can hear</li><li>2 things you can smell</li><li>1 thing you can taste</li></ul><h3>Rewiring Takes Time</h3><p>Remember: your brain does not know how to distinguish reality from perceived reality.<br />This takes time to rewire and practice—but the more you do it, the more naturally it will come.</p>

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When Grief Triggers Anxiety: Navigating the Body’s Response

<p>Grief comes in many forms, and every loss is deeply personal. Yet sometimes, the world around us does not acknowledge our pain. This is called disenfranchised grief — a natural emotional response to loss that is not openly accepted or recognised by others. For those experiencing it, the silence or dismissal can be just as painful as the loss itself.</p><h3>What is Disenfranchised Grief?</h3><p>The term was first defined by grief expert Dr. Kenneth Doka in 1989: <i>“Disenfranchised grief refers to a loss that’s not openly acknowledged, socially mourned, or publicly supported.”</i></p><p>This type of grief often arises when:</p><ol><li>The loss is not considered “important enough” by others.</li><li>The type of loss is stigmatised.</li><li>Some people are seen as not “entitled” to grieve.</li><li>The circumstances of the death are denied.</li><li>The way someone expresses their grief is judged.</li></ol><p>Think of moments when someone says, <i>“I was only their friend,”</i> or <i>“We were divorced, so I shouldn’t feel this upset.”</i> These are powerful examples of how people can minimise their own grief because they feel it doesn’t “count.”</p><p>But here’s the truth: <strong>all grief is valid.</strong></p><h3>Why it Matters</h3><p>When grief is not recognised, it can leave the mourner feeling isolated, unwelcome, or even ashamed of their pain. This can make the grieving process longer and more complicated.</p><p>For those bereaved by suicide, disenfranchised grief can feel especially heavy. Because suicide carries stigma, some may feel that others see their loved one’s death as “less worthy” of sympathy, or that they themselves are “less entitled” to grieve. Whether real or imagined, these feelings can prevent people from seeking the support they need — leaving them to carry their grief alone.</p><p>As one bereaved person shared:</p><blockquote><p><br /><i>“When I lost my friend to suicide, people said, ‘But you weren’t family.’ It made me feel like my grief didn’t matter. But it mattered deeply — it still does.”</i></p></blockquote><h3>Finding a Way Forward</h3><p>If you recognise yourself in this type of grief, know that you are not alone — and your feelings are valid. Some steps that may help include:</p><ul><li>Communicate your needs: Let family and friends know what kind of support helps you most. Often, people want to help but feel unsure of what to say or do.</li><li>Seek safe spaces: A support group can offer relief, connection, and validation by bringing together others who truly understand.</li><li>Professional support: Speaking with a grief therapist can provide guidance in processing difficult emotions.</li><li>Stay connected: Whatever you choose, try not to isolate yourself. Reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness.</li></ul><p>Grief does not need permission to exist — and neither do you. Every relationship, every bond, and every loss is worthy of being honoured. If you are experiencing disenfranchised grief, know that your pain is real, your love is real, and you are deserving of support and compassion.</p><p>For free, peer-led support after suicide loss, visit <a href="https://hugg.ie/find-support-after-a-suicide/ ">HUGG.ie</a>. </p>

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When Grief Goes Unrecognised: Understanding Disenfranchised Grief

<h3>When Everything Feels Overwhelming</h3><p>When you’ve experienced the loss of a loved one, there can be times when it all feels like too much. You might feel restless, agitated, or unable to relaxeven when you’re exhausted. It can seem as though your whole body is tensed, bracing for something.</p><p>When stress, loss, or sudden change occurs, the body reacts automatically. The nervous system instinctively shifts into the sympathetic state, often called the "fight or flight response". This is a primitive survival mechanism designed to protect you and help you respond quickly to danger.</p><p>In this state, you might notice your heart racing, your breathing becoming fast and shallow, your muscles tightening, and your focus narrowing. In short bursts this response is useful, but when we spend too long in fight or flight, it stops being protective and can leave us feeling tense, anxious, and overwhelmed, making the grief even harder to carry.</p><h3>One Breath at a Time</h3><p>Breathwork can be a very effective and simple way to regulate your nervous system and shift back into the calmer, parasympathetic state.</p><p>What is Breathwork? It is the practice of consciously guiding your breathing in different ways to influence how you feel in your body and mind. Breathing is unique because although it happens automatically, it can be intentionally regulated. When you change how you breathe, you can change how you feel.</p><p>By practicing different breathwork techniques, you can activate pathways in the nervous system that promote relaxation, improve focus, and support emotional regulation.</p><h3>A Calming Breath for Moments of Overwhelm</h3><p>When we breathe in, our heart rate speeds up. When we breathe out, it slows down. Slow, rhythmic breathing whereby you extend your exhale, activates the vagus nerve, signalling to your brain that it is safe to leave the fight or flight state.</p><p>Even a few intentional breaths can begin to shift your body into a calmer state. Breathwork won’t erase your feelings, but this technique can help press pause on your internal alarm giving you a pocket of calm. Over time, these pauses add up, giving your system more opportunities to recover.</p><figure class="media"><div data-oembed-url="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPkb4_YWMFw&amp;t=6s"><div style="position:relative;padding-bottom:100%;height:0;padding-bottom:56.2493%"><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xPkb4_YWMFw?start=6" style="position:absolute;width:100%;height:100%;top:0;left:0" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></div></figure><h3>Try This Simple Breathing Technique</h3><p>To practice this breathing technique, find a position that feels safe and supportive. You might sit upright in a chair with your feet on the floor or lie down somewhere comfortable. If it feels right, place one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Close your eyes gently or simply soften your gaze.</p><p>1. Begin with a slow, gentle inhale through your nose, counting to four in your head.</p><ul style="list-style-type:square"><li>You don’t need to take a big breath, it should be light, gentle, and low into your belly.</li><li>Notice how your belly gently rises and falls under your hand.</li></ul><p>2. Without pausing, exhale slowly through your mouth for six counts, as though you’re gently blowing out a candle.</p><ul style="list-style-type:square"><li>With each exhale, visualise the stress or tension leaving your body.</li><li>Go at your own pace and never force your breath.</li></ul><p>3. Repeat this rhythm several times:</p><ul style="list-style-type:square"><li>Inhale for 4 counts.</li><li>Exhale for 6 counts.</li><li>If your mind wanders, return to the steady count in your head.</li></ul><h3>Notice What Changes</h3><p>As you breathe , you might notice small shifts in your body. You may not feel transformed, but you might notice a softening, a release. Perhaps your shoulders lower slightly? Or your jaw feels less tight? Maybe your heartbeat slows and steadies. Perhaps you simply feel the comfort of focusing on the steady rhythm.</p><p>There is no right or wrong outcome.</p><h3>Your Breath Is Always With You</h3><p>You can return to this practice anytime. You don’t need a quiet room, special equipment, or a long session. Even one or two minutes using this technique can make a difference. Your breath is always with you.</p><p>Over time, these moments of calm accumulate, creating more space for you to meet life as it is.</p><p>Your breath won’t erase life’s challenges, but it can remind you that with every inhale and every exhale, you carry with you a tool that is simple, effective, and always available to help bring your mind and body back from overwhelm to greater ease.</p><h3>A Gentle Reminder</h3><p>Think of these practices as gentle tools you can reach for to support your wellbeing.. They don’t replace medical or therapeutic care. Please only do what feels supportive for you, and if anything doesn’t feel right, simply return to your natural breath.</p><p>If you or a loved one is struggling with ongoing or overwhelming distress, I encourage you to reach out to a healthcare or mental health professional for extra support.</p>

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When Everything Feels Overwhelming. One Breath at a Time.

<p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)"><i>Breffni Mc Guinness, Bereavement Coordinator, LauraLynn, Ireland’s Children’s Hospice.</i></span></p><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">The death of a child is one of the most difficult deaths that anyone may have to face. We often don’t know what to say or do when someone we know has experienced this loss. And yet, it is very important to reach out and engage with the parent even though we might feel uncomfortable.</span></p><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Sometimes we might wonder about what is the ‘right thing to say’?  We don’t want to offend someone who is already suffering deep pain, and we don’t want to make matters worse.  So, what can we do?</span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Reach out</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">One thing that is helpful to remember is that for the parent whose child has died the worst thing has already happened.  Rather than focussing on the right words – it is more important to trust yourself and to reach out in compassion. </span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Be aware of your own discomfort</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Sometimes when we are talking to people who are bereaved, we feel uncomfortable. It is good to be aware of this and at the same not let this get in the way of supporting the person.  What people who are bereaved really want is to be met with your humanity and care. It does matter when we express our condolences – no matter how clunky or uncomfortable we might feel while doing so. It makes a big difference to the person who is bereaved.  Believe it or not, when you are grieving it can be more painful when people avoid you because they don’t know what to say or because they feel uncomfortable.</span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Keep it simple</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Don’t worry about finding the perfect words – trust yourself and your gut. Use the child’s name wherever possible.   If you are struggling to find a way to start you can use something like:</span></p><p style="margin-left:18.0pt"><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)"><i>“I am so sorry to hear about John” or</i></span></p><p style="margin-left:18.0pt"><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)"><i>“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you” </i></span></p><p style="margin-left:18.0pt"><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)"><i>“I am so sorry about John – he was a lovely boy”</i></span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Don’t worry about awkward pauses or gaps</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">These may occur – remember the priority here is the welfare of the person who is bereaved.  Don’t feel you have to fill the silence or the gaps.  The person may be lost in their thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there aren’t words to describe what they are experiencing. I can guarantee you that they will still appreciate that you made the effort to reach out to them even if it is a bit awkward.    </span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Let the bereaved parent be your guide</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Take your cue from the person who is bereaved – let them be your guide to their grief.  Reach out, offer condolences.  If they do not wish to talk to you or if they don’t engage – don’t be offended – they are in unimaginable pain at this moment.  They will still appreciate that you made the effort to connect with them even if they might not be in the space right now to receive that.  On the other hand, if the person wants to talk – let them – and all you have to do is listen.  Be aware that someone will generally only talk to someone else if they feel comfortable to do so.  Take that as a compliment and allow the person who is bereaved to talk as much as they wish.  Listen, listen, then listen a bit more. </span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Don’t minimise the loss</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">It is really important not to minimise a person’s loss – especially in relation to a child who has died.  Phrases like <i>“you can always have another child”</i> or <i>“at least you still have one child”</i> are, not helpful.  This is not a time to try to cheer someone up – no matter how well intentioned.  It is a time to meet our fellow human being in the midst of their suffering and to walk alongside them for a little bit. </span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">If in doubt</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Finally, if you are really struggling and don’t know what to say or how to say it – say nothing.  Silence is better than saying something that might be unhelpful or painful for the grieving parent to hear.</span></p><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Final Note</span></p><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">The death of a child is one of the hardest losses that anyone may have to face.  It can be hard to know what to say to a parent in this situation. And yet, our care and support are needed by families at this most difficult time.  It does make a difference to the person who is bereaved to hear from friends, family and colleagues and to experience their support. By being aware of our own discomfort, keeping things simple, not being upset by silences, reaching out to the parent and letting them guide us to their grief, we can make a difficult situation a little less painful. </span></p><h3><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Here is a free resource from LauraLynn:</span></h3><p><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">For those supporting a family with a child with a life-limiting illness:  </span><a href="https://www.lauralynn.ie/sites/default/files/scorm-courses/lauralynn_bereavement-support-staff/launch.html"><span style="color:hsl(0,0%,0%)">Learn how grief can affect families and how to communicate effectively with them</span></a></p>

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What to Say (and Not Say) to a Grieving Parent

<h3>Living with Death</h3><p>In recent years, the role of a Death Doula has gained recognition as part of a growing movement to bring more compassion, presence, and dignity to our end-of-life experience. Death Doulas journey alongside individuals and their loved ones as they navigate life’s final stage. Our work centres not on curing or treating, but on promoting dignity within the dying process and ensuring no one has to face it alone.</p><h3>What Is a Death Doula?</h3><p>A Death Doula, sometimes called an end-of-life Doula, is a non-medical professional trained to provide emotional, spiritual, and practical support at all stages of an individual’s illness and dying process. While doctors and nurses focus on clinical care, a Death Doula moves through the deeper levels of what it means to face one’s own mortality: fears, regrets, unfinished conversations, and the longing for peace.</p><p>We are present before, during, and sometimes after death, offering connection and calmness in a time that can feel uncertain and overwhelming.</p><h3>A Role That Adapts to Each Family’s Needs</h3><p>The role of a Death Doula can take many forms, depending on the needs of the individual and their family. For some, it may mean guiding legacy projects such as recording life stories, creating memory boxes, or writing letters to loved ones. For others, it could involve facilitating conversations about values, preferences, or how someone wishes to be remembered.</p><p>Doulas may also help with practical tasks: organising paperwork, coordinating with hospice teams, or creating a comforting environment at the bedside. Above all, we serve as a calm presence—listening without judgment, holding space for grief and love, and reminding families that death, while difficult, is also a natural part of life.</p><h3>Supporting Families Through the Unknown</h3><p>For families, the presence of a Death Doula can be profoundly reassuring. Many people enter the dying process unsure of what to expect, what to say, or how to cope. A Doula helps normalise what is happening, explaining signs and changes, and offering guidance on how loved ones can participate meaningfully.</p><p>We encourage open conversations, helping family members share words of gratitude, forgiveness, and farewell before it is too late. By reducing fear and fostering connection, Doulas can often transform what could feel like a time of crisis into a sacred period of closeness.</p><h3>Bringing Death Back Into the Light</h3><p>This work matters because, in our modern culture, death is often hidden away or treated only as a medical event. Many people die in hospitals or nursing facilities, far removed from rituals, community, and the comfort that can make dying less lonely.</p><p>A Death Doula brings focus back to the inevitability of death by helping people die in accordance with their wishes, surrounded by care, and with opportunities for closure. Families often report that their grief feels more bearable when they were able to participate fully and say what needed to be said.</p><h3>Walking Alongside Sorrow</h3><p>Ultimately, the gift of a Death Doula is not to erase sorrow but to walk alongside it. We remind people that final conversations—whether whispered at a bedside, written in a letter, or spoken in silence—carry profound meaning.</p><p>In supporting those last moments of honesty, love, and connection, Death Doulas honour the dignity of both the living and the leaving.</p>

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What Is a Death Doula? Compassionate Support at the End of Life

<h3>Rebuilding After Suicide Loss</h3><p>Rebuilding your life after the loss of someone close to suicide, might feel like an enormous challenge. But there is always hope. Despite all the difficult feelings and trauma – especially in the early days – we know that many people bereaved by suicide do eventually learn to embrace life again.</p><h3>Always Prioritise Yourself</h3><p>After someone dies, it may be that you look after everyone except yourself. Taking care of yourself should be a priority. It could just mean spending some time with friends, choosing to be alone and taking some time to yourself, or doing something nice for yourself, a treat. You may want different things on different days, but it is important to always look out for your own feelings and needs, and prioritize them.</p><h3>Find a Good Listener</h3><p>People who have been bereaved by suicide often say that the most helpful thing is to find someone (or more than one person) who can listen. They may not be the most obvious people; friends may not be as easy to talk to or as available as you might hope. Look out for people who will simply listen and let you ‘be you’.</p><h3>Meet Others Who Have Had a Similar Loss</h3><p>Some people who have been bereaved by suicide find it helps to connect with others who have been bereaved similarly. It may be helpful to connect with their feelings, and perhaps you may feel you are not alone. This could be through attending a support group or one-to-one support for people who have been bereaved by suicide.</p><h3>Use Some Self-Help</h3><p>Some people who are bereaved find it informative to read books on a broad range of topics, such as the psychology of suicide, the experiences of people bereaved by suicide, loss and grief. There are also many trusted online sources of information, as well as various podcasts available that may be useful for you.</p><p>For some, daily spiritual practice – including visits to the person’s grave or a place that was meaningful for them – can provide great solace. Equally, reassurance from clergy and other faith leaders may be helpful in the early days following a suicide. You might also find spiritual support in other places, or with self-care strategies such as getting gentle exercise, being in nature, or practicing relaxation, yoga or mindfulness.</p><h3>Getting Through</h3><p>Nobody can tell you how you should grieve; if anyone tries to do so, you can remind them that everyone grieves differently. Grieving for someone has a definite starting point but no definitive end. The truth is that you will always carry what has happened inside you.</p><p>You may find that some days all you can think about is the loss, and some days you can do some tasks or think a little about your next steps in life. You may switch between these on an hourly basis; this is natural. Sometimes it can feel as if grief takes over. But people bereaved by suicide say that one day, perhaps against expectations, you may find that there is space for something else – a plan, a hope. And one day, maybe there will be a little more space. It isn’t so much that your grief is growing smaller; it’s that your world is growing around the grief.</p><p><i>This article is adapted from </i><a href="https://www.healthpromotion.ie/products/you-are-not-alone-suicide-bereavement-support-guide"><i>You Are Not Alone, the national suicide bereavement support guide.</i></a></p><p><i>For more information from the HSE on bereavement, loss and suicide bereavement, visit </i><a href="https://www2.hse.ie/mental-health/life-situations-events/bereavement/"><i>www.hse.ie/grief</i></a><i>.</i></p><p><i>From the HSE National Office for Suicide Prevention.</i></p>

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Rebuilding After Suicide Loss: Finding Hope in the Aftermath

<h3>Why Talking About Death Matters</h3><p>Talking about death is something many people shy away from. It can feel uncomfortable, even frightening, to think about our own mortality or that of the people we love. It can feel awkward, too heavy, or simply too soon. Yet in my experience, both personally and through my work, I’ve learned that the most peaceful deaths often begin with open and courageous conversations. When we talk about death, we are not inviting it closer. We are simply making space for honesty, understanding, and peace.</p><h3>What Makes a Death Peaceful</h3><p>A peaceful death does not just happen by chance. It can be nurtured through awareness, compassion, and connection. When we speak openly about our wishes, acknowledge our fears, and express what really matters to us — how we want to be cared for, where we would like to be, who we would want nearby — we take control of our final chapter. Preparing for death is not only about medical plans or legal documents, though those are important. These conversations are not morbid. They are deeply life-affirming and often bring a surprising sense of calm. They remind us what truly matters and give our loved ones the gift of knowing how to support us when the time comes.</p><h3>Facing Fears with Openness</h3><p>Death can bring uncertainty, and fear is natural. Many people worry about being in pain, losing their independence, or leaving loved ones behind. Bringing these fears into the open does not make them worse. We often find we are not alone in what we feel. When we speak about our fears, we can be met with reassurance, support, and encouragement. Sometimes just feeling understood and heard is enough to bring peace.</p><h3>How to Start the Conversation</h3><p>Starting these conversations can feel scary, but it does not have to be. You might begin with something simple, like “I’ve been thinking about what’s important to me as I get older,” or “Have you ever thought about what a peaceful death might look like for you?” For some, sharing a story, a film, a song, or even a family memory can open the conversation. The key is to begin gently and be open to revisiting the topic many times. If you are unsure where to start, choose a calm, ordinary moment such as a walk, a quiet evening, or a cup of tea. You might be surprised at how open some people are to talking about death. Sometimes they are just waiting for someone else to begin.</p><h3>What People Really Talk About</h3><p>In my experience, when people start to share their thoughts about death, they often discover that what they are really talking about is life. How they want to live until the very end. For some, a peaceful death means being at home, surrounded by familiar sounds and faces. For others, it might mean knowing their spiritual or cultural wishes will be honoured. There is no right or wrong answer, only what feels right for each of us.</p><h3>Thinking About Legacy</h3><p>Asking yourself, “What do I hope to leave behind?” reminds us that death is not just an ending. It is an extension of us into the lives of others. It might be values, memories, or small everyday acts of love and kindness. Our legacy is not just about possessions. It is about presence, the impact of our love, and the meaning we leave in the lives we have touched.</p><h3>An Act of Love</h3><p>Ultimately, preparing for a peaceful death is an act of love for ourselves and for those supporting us on this journey. When we dare to speak about death, we are really speaking about what we value, what we fear, and how we wish to be remembered. These honest conversations are what matter most during this time. They can bring us peace, connection, and a deeper appreciation of life itself.</p>

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Preparing for a Peaceful Death: Conversations That Matter

<h3>If You’ve Found Your Way Here</h3><p>It likely means you’ve experienced the loss of your baby—or you’re supporting someone who has. First, we want to say we are so sorry. Grief can feel overwhelming, isolating, confusing, or even numb. However you’re feeling right now is exactly how you should be feeling. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, and no single path through it.</p><p>Whether your loss was recent or still feels recent, whether it was expected or sudden, your experience matters. And while nothing can take away the pain, knowing you’re not alone can make a difference.</p><h3>In the Early Days After the Loss of Your Baby</h3><p>We are so sorry you are here under such heartbreaking circumstances. Right now, you may be trying to come to terms with the devastating loss of your baby—and that can feel overwhelming, surreal, and deeply painful. As bereaved parents ourselves, we understand just how profound and disorienting this time can be.</p><p>In the days, weeks, and months ahead, please know this: you are not alone. Support is available, and when you feel ready, we would be honoured to walk alongside you. Whether you need someone to listen, information to help you understand what you’re going through, or connection with others who have lived through similar losses—we are here.</p><p>Many parents have found comfort in meeting others who have experienced the loss of a baby. While everyone’s grief is unique, there is a quiet strength in shared understanding. Hearing how others have coped can offer small moments of hope when everything feels impossible.</p><h3>What You Might Be Feeling</h3><p>Grief affects not just the heart, but the body and mind too. In these early days, it’s common to feel physically and emotionally exhausted. You may notice:</p><ul><li>Difficulty concentrating or remembering things</li><li>A heavy feeling in your chest</li><li>Deep, sighing breaths or shortness of breath</li><li>Palpitations or “butterflies” in your stomach</li><li>Aching arms, loss of appetite, or disrupted sleep</li><li>Bad dreams or nightmares</li></ul><p>If your doctor has ruled out more serious health concerns, please be reassured that these symptoms are a natural part of grief. They may be frightening or confusing, but they are temporary and will ease in time.</p><p>Emotionally, you may move through many different feelings—shock, anger, guilt, sadness, confusion, even moments of numbness or peace. These emotions may come in waves, without warning, and in no particular order. Some days might feel more manageable; others may be incredibly hard. All of this is part of the grieving process, and everything you feel is valid.</p><h3>Gentle Advice from Other Bereaved Parents</h3><ul><li>Talk about your baby. Sharing your thoughts and feelings can help. Avoiding them can make grief feel even more isolating.</li><li>Understand that grief is individual. You and your partner may express your sorrow in very different ways—and that’s okay.</li><li>Take your time. If possible, delay big decisions like changing jobs or moving house until you feel more grounded.</li><li>Write it down. Keeping a journal can be a helpful outlet for your emotions.</li><li>Support your other children. It’s okay for them to see you feeling sad. Reassure them that they are loved, and talk to them openly about their sibling in a way that feels right for your family.</li></ul><p>Above all, be gentle with yourself. There is no “right” way to grieve. You are doing the best you can—and that is enough.</p><h3>When You’re Ready, We’re Here</h3><p>We know this journey is incredibly hard. When you feel ready, we’re here to support you in whatever way you need. Whether it’s through conversation, resources, or connection with others, you are not alone.</p>

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Navigating Baby Loss: Gentle Support for the Early Days of Grief

<h3>From Bright Eyes to Gentle Goodbyes</h3><p>My journey to becoming a Death Doula began long before I knew such a role existed. As a child, I was deeply moved by the film <i>Watership Down</i> and its haunting theme song, “Bright Eyes.” The story’s honest portrayal of death and dying, tender yet unflinching, sparked something inside me. It invited me to see mortality not as something to fear, but as a natural part of life’s cycle. Even then, I sensed that death wasn’t an ending to be hidden away. It was part of a much bigger story.</p><p>This curiosity grew as I watched my family navigate the deaths of my grandparents and other loved ones. I witnessed grief up close. The quiet strength, the rituals, the unspoken emotions. I saw how differently each person coped. Each experience shaped my understanding of death in its own way. There was love in the tears, connection in the silence, and somehow, even amidst the sadness, a strange kind of peace. These moments taught me that death does not happen to an individual alone. It ripples outward, touching families, communities, and traditions.</p><p>The Catholic faith I was raised in also influenced my view of death. The rituals of prayers, vigils, and funerals offered comfort and a sense of continuity between the living and the dead. But as I grew older, I began to question my faith and seek a more personal understanding of what it means to die. And to live fully while we can. These questions would later guide my work.</p><h3>Volunteering at Hospice: A Turning Point</h3><p>As an adult, my path became clearer when I began volunteering at my local hospice. There, I met extraordinary people living with life-limiting illnesses. Sitting with them, hearing their stories, sharing laughter and tears, and witnessing their courage as they approached the end of life changed me profoundly. It was a huge honour. These encounters were humbling and deeply life-affirming. I began to understand the power of presence. Simply being with someone as they face death can be one of the greatest gifts you can offer.</p><h3>Training as a Death Doula</h3><p>Wanting to deepen my understanding, I enrolled in a Sacred Circle Death Doula course. This transformative experience required me to confront my own beliefs about death and dying. I wrote my own eulogy and participated in a living wake. These practices were both unsettling and liberating. They helped me see death not as a distant event, but as an integral part of my own life story. These experiences stripped away layers of fear and illusion. They reminded me that thinking about death isn’t morbid. It is a way of learning how to live with more truth, gratitude, and openness.</p><h3>Holding Space for Grief and End-of-Life Conversations</h3><p>Today, I find myself speaking with people -family, friends, clients, and even strangers. We talk about their experiences of illness, grief, and death. These conversations are not dark or depressing. They are profoundly human and freeing. People long to share their fears, their memories, and their hopes about what might lie beyond it all. My role as a Death Doula is to hold space for these stories. I walk alongside others as they navigate the most intimate threshold of existence. These moments remind me why I do this work.</p><h3>A Life’s Purpose Rooted in Compassion</h3><p>Being a Death Doula feels less like a career and more like my life’s purpose. It honours the full cycle of life. From those first childhood glimpses of death through the lens of a story and a song, to the real and raw experiences of walking beside others at life’s end, my journey has been about one simple truth. Death is not separate from life. It is part of it. And when we face it with compassion, we open ourselves to a deeper kind of love.</p>

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My Path to Becoming a Death Doula

<p><i>What is it like to lose a sibling? Well, it's like swimming without a float — you can do it, but it's not as sturdy or buoyant.</i></p><p>I only knew my life with Jacinta in it. She was 17 months old when I was born. Our lives grew together. I was 28 when she died. I never had to protect myself, she did that for me. She was allowed to call me names or push me around as siblings often do but, my God! If someone did that outside of our family, she would be the first one to ride over on her BMX bike and swiftly wheelie them out of my life.</p><h3>The Void She Left Behind</h3><p>When she died, I felt exposed to the world. Vulnerable to a part of me that never had to show up before, because she always did it for me. I didn't need the confidence to speak; she did it for me. I now had to find a voice, and I didn't know what that sounded like without her tone joining in with mine.</p><p>Losing a sibling brings a sense of unmasking. An unwanted unfolding of a barrage of questions:</p><ul><li>Who am I without her?</li><li>Where do I belong now?</li><li>Where is my place in the family?</li><li>What roles do I have to step into now that hers is vacant?</li><li>Where will I stand in our family photo?</li><li>Are they her friends or my friends?</li><li>Do they still want to be friends with me?</li><li>Where is my place? </li><li>Where do I belong if it's not beside her? </li><li>Where will I share all of our memories and stories?</li><li>Who can I laugh with about the mom joke she made up in our bedroom when we were six and supposed to be asleep?</li><li>What will I do with the song in my head that she used to ask me to sing to put her to sleep every night?</li></ul><h3>The Small Things Are the Big Things</h3><p>These questions may seem trivial, but that's the way a sibling relationship blooms. It's always the small things. Together, they are the big things, the shared memories. There is a bond there that cannot be filled.</p><p>From childhood to death at an old age, we imagine our lives together floating through love, rivalry, shared joy, shared pain, misunderstandings, disconnections, and reconnections.</p><p>This is how we believed it would be. There was safety in that. A sense of belonging, teamwork, partnership, and a bittersweet symphony of all of life's moments. The struggles and the strengths were felt and witnessed by each other. In place of this, there is now a loneliness that feels hollow and yet substantial.</p><h3>The Secondary Grief</h3><p>These moments were experienced by two connected members — members of a union. When this membership is broken, there is a sense of being outcast and different. It can cause a sensation of losing the person you once were. And in that, there is also a secondary grief.</p><p>And then, seeping into the field of bereavement, arrives the harsh truth: our parents are no longer the people they once were. Especially as an adult, it feels like our responsibility to help them through their deep pain and sorrow. They are broken too — they have lost part of their own birthed tribe.</p><p>As siblings, we feel the weight and acknowledge the full sense of helplessness. We have to witness this, knowing there is no fixing their broken soul. This can be excruciating.</p><h3>Ten Years On</h3><p>It has been almost ten years since Jacinta’s sudden death from a brain aneurysm. Even writing this seems like I am lying or making it up. The moments of reality hit deep. However, now, they are met with a sense of compassion for myself and my grieving heart.</p><p>How do I do this?</p><h3>Leaning Into Grief</h3><p>Acknowledging that the pain and emotion behind each interaction with loss is safe. It is safe for me to go there. It is safe to be in this. I had to lean into it. I learned that the thought of going to that deep place was actually worse than the moment of it.</p><p>I did this by breathing in and acknowledging.<br />Give yourself the time to be with your own grief.<br />Learn to accommodate it.<br />Notice all the feelings that surge through you. The confusion, the anger, the gutted stomach, the hopelessness, the love, the disconnection, the fear.</p><h3>All Feelings Are Welcome</h3><p>All of these feelings are welcome. They all have a place. One is not worse than the other — they simply are, and they are there to be felt.</p><p>That is when bravery comes in. That is your strength.<br />Notice your courage to feel all of the complications.<br />And breathe. Release. Let yourself go.<br />Remind your inner critic to be kind.<br />Slow down and let yourself feel into the emotions.</p><p>You deserve this space and time to reconnect with yourself.<br />Yes, you are different — but you are different with a strike of lightning now running through your veins.<br />Feel this light, this power, and this burst of energy. It is also yours.<br />It is okay to feel the light and the darkness at the same time. It is all welcome.</p><h3>A Note on Guilt</h3><p>As I write this, I am also highly aware that whilst I have lost three siblings, in this article I only speak to the loss of my sister Jacinta. And with this, I notice the guilt seeping in.</p><p>Does that mean I didn't love my brothers as much?<br />Does that mean their death did not impact me?<br />Why did I choose to write about Jacinta?</p><p>And... I notice these thoughts. I acknowledge them. And I let them go.<br />Life is complicated, and not everything has an answer. Just like grief.</p><p> </p>

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Losing a Sibling: A Lifetime of Grief, Love and Identity

<p>The loneliness we experience after the death of someone we love can be deeper and more enduring than other forms of loneliness. How can we give these feelings the space they need?</p><h3>Losing the Familiar</h3><p>To be human is to be lonely, and most of us will experience loneliness at various times in our lives. Research shows that people often feel lonely during life transitions—retirement, moving house, marriage, becoming a parent. These are usually seen as joyful milestones, yet they can bring a sense of disconnection. We may feel alone in losing the familiar and uncertain in facing new challenges. It can feel like entering a strange new country, where we must learn unfamiliar signposts.</p><p>In bereavement, we may experience a range of emotions toward the person who has died—including anger that they are no longer here. These mixed feelings can lead to confusion and guilt, adding to our sense of isolation.</p><h3>Lonely for a Part of Yourself</h3><p>The loneliness that follows the death of a spouse or partner is often layered and complex. The losses are cumulative and can affect every area of life. We may yearn for the life we shared—even the difficult parts. The certainty, the shared interests, the intimacy, the interdependence—all gone. Even in imperfect relationships, the death of a partner can mark the end of unfulfilled hopes. The finality of death means the chance to make things better is gone, which can lead to complicated grief.</p><p>After a partner dies, we are suddenly on our own, often faced with a raft of decisions when we feel least able to make them.</p><blockquote><p>“My husband was the technical one,” said Colette. “The first time my computer broke after he died, I actually called out loud to him to help me. I knew it sounded ridiculous, but I felt so helpless and alone.”</p></blockquote><p>Good partners offer comfort simply by being present. Ben, who was widowed last year, shared:</p><blockquote><p>“We were very close and did a lot together. We enjoyed watching TV in the evenings. I’d be in my chair, she’d be on the couch, and we’d exchange a glance, knowing what the other was thinking. Now, I see something in a film and turn to look at her—but the couch is empty. She’s not there. I know it will take me a long time to stop turning toward her.”</p></blockquote><p>Losing a partner can also mean losing a part of ourselves.</p><blockquote><p>“I’ve realised that nobody will ever see me again as he did,” my mother said, months after my father’s death. “I am lonely for that part of myself.”</p></blockquote><h3>Looking After Ourselves as Best We Can</h3><p>As we move through the loneliness of grief, it’s important to care for ourselves as best we can. This might mean accepting support from trusted friends or family. Patience and self-compassion are essential—allowing ourselves to feel pain and sadness, and giving grief the time it needs.</p><p>There may be moments of joy, distraction, or escape that we can allow ourselves without guilt. Expressing grief in healthy ways—through art, writing, gardening, cooking, or walking in nature—can also help.</p><p>When we’re ready, there are sources of support. Spending time with family members who are also grieving can be healing. Sharing stories, laughing, and crying together can be deeply therapeutic.</p><p>Don’t rule out professional help. Joining a bereavement support group can offer comfort and connection with others who understand. If loneliness persists and is accompanied by intense or prolonged grief, speaking with a therapist or counsellor can provide the space to explore and express your feelings—and, in time, help you begin to live more fully again.</p>

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Loneliness After Loss: Navigating Grief and Finding Connection

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